


Let it Snow

by nightlight9



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Morning After, One Night Stands, Pining, Snowed In, alcohol mention, except not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21745921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightlight9/pseuds/nightlight9
Summary: No matter how good looking someone happened to be, or how great the sex was, Derek’s never had a problem walking away. When it’s done he gets out, no strings attached. That’s that. With Stiles it was different though, right from the start. Derek hadn’t even been planning on leaving the bar with anyone the night before, especially not the loud-mouthed kid celebrating his best friend’s bachelorette party with way too much enthusiasm. But he’s glad that he did.Although, getting snowed in at his one night stand’s house might change his mind.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 12
Kudos: 161
Collections: 12 Days of Sterek





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for 12 Days of Sterek 2019! Chapter One is in Derek's perspective. Chapter Two is Stiles point of view of the same events. Hopefully you enjoy <3

Derek doesn’t want to leave. Stiles is still nestled under the warmth of the covers. He doesn’t jostle when Derek gets up and starts getting dressed, sleeping without a care in the world. Sprawled out on the bed, Stiles is laying on his stomach, bare back in full view where the comforter has been pushed down around his waist, and it’s a tantalizing sight. There’s a purpling bruise on his right shoulder, a claiming mark that sends shivers down Derek’s spine when he sees it, knowing that he put that there, knowing that he wants to make another one. He wants to climb back into bed, pull Stiles close to him and let sleep reclaim him. He wants to stay.

But he can’t. He’s already been here too long. One night stands are supposed to be just that: one night. And Derek has always been good about abiding by those rules. No matter how good looking someone happened to be, or how great the sex was, he’s never had a problem walking away. When it’s done he gets out, no strings attached. That’s that.

With Stiles it was different, right from the start. Derek hadn’t even been planning on leaving the bar with anyone the night before, especially not the loud-mouthed kid celebrating his best friend’s bachelorette party with way too much enthusiasm. He hadn’t even really wanted to go out in the first place, but Erica needed a break from her family and Derek wasn’t going to let his best friend drink alone. As soon as they got to the bar, Derek regretted it instantly. He should have just let her crash at his apartment for the night because the place was packed with people back in town for the holiday season: college kids enjoying the break from classes, parents taking a breather from shopping stress, everyone just looking for an escape for the night. 

He had tried to convince Erica that they should go somewhere else, but she had been determined to stay. And Derek caved, like he always did where Erica was concerned. He learned long ago that there was no point in arguing with her. It had felt like good luck when she found a free table, though as soon as they got their drinks it became clear why it had been left vacant in the first place. Right beside them, taking up a good portion of the back of the bar, was a very loud, very enthusiastic bachelorette party. The guest of honor was a beautiful red-headed woman with a sharp laugh and a sharper smile, and at her side was Stiles, with his wicked grin and bright eyes. 

He was the one making most of the noise, dealing out enough jokes and conversation to keep the party flowing. Most of the people there were already well on their way to being drunk, but Stiles had seemed so clear headed. One look in his direction (and it was impossible not to look), made Derek _want_ in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. He had wanted to leave right then and there; he wasn’t looking to take anyone home or start anything, not so close to the holiday. It was bound to be a reminder that he didn’t have anyone to call his own, feeding into the loneliness that always crept into his heart during the festive season. He had wanted to run. But Erica was determined to have a good night and drink away her stress, so Derek had stayed. He hadn’t expected that Stiles would nearly stumble into him on his way back from the bar, hadn’t anticipated the sharp tongue that would tease him and his surly attitude. 

Derek’s still not quite sure how it happened, but they had been absorbed by the bachelorette party, brought into the group in a way that only works when everyone is drunk. Sitting beside Stiles in a booth too small for everyone to crowd around, it was impossible not to rise to the challenges that Stiles set. He was so sure of himself, so teasing and warm and full of life. When his hand landed on Derek’s thigh in the middle of a story, he froze, glancing at Derek to see if he would protest. When Derek merely raised an eyebrow in response, Stiles left his hand there. An hour later, when the party started to break up and after Derek saw to it that Erica was safely on her way home, Stiles twined their fingers together and pulled Derek with him into his Uber. 

No matter how much he wasn’t looking for someone to sleep with, Derek is glad that he went home with Stiles. Not only was the sex incredible (because it was), but Stiles also made him laugh. He challenged him and never backed down, not even when he was pressed against the mattress, Derek’s body blanketing him and keeping him still. And it was _fun_ , fun in a way that sex hasn’t been in years. Even after spending the night with him, Derek is still so intrigued. That’s what makes him want to stay, what makes him linger while he gets dressed.

Finally he can’t put it off anymore. Taking one last look back at Stiles, Derek slips out of the bedroom, careful not to make any noise. There are pictures on the wall in the hallway that Derek wants to stop and examine, but he won’t. He keeps his head down to avoid the temptation to snoop as he pulls his boots on, tying them slowly and waiting for a protest that won’t come. Stiles is still asleep, and even if he weren’t, it’s not like he’d want Derek to stay anyway. 

With that in mind, Derek shrugs on his jacket and pulls open the front door. A blast of cold air makes Derek flinch back, squinting his eyes at how bright it is outside. He had been planning on walking the few blocks to the bar to get his car, but that’s not an option. Hell, even if he managed to make it to the Camaro without losing his toes, there’s no way that he’ll be able to drive back to his apartment. Sometime in the hours since they got to Stiles’ house, the storm from the night before got much worse. Snow piles in perfect, pristine mounds at least a foot deep all around him. He can’t go anywhere.

If either of his sisters could see him now, they would laugh so hard they’d pass out. Imaging their responses is almost enough to send Derek into the snow anyway. Almost, but not quite. Not only is it a risk he’s not willing to take, but as soon as he sees the snow, the only thing that he can think about is about how now he has an excuse to stay. He gets to linger in Stiles’ orbit for a little longer. Feeling better than he has since he crawled out of bed, Derek steps back inside and closes the door, locking it tightly. 

He toes off his boots, and hangs his leather jacket back on the hook by the door, trying to ignore how nice he thinks it looks beside Stiles’ red hoodie. He wants to go back in the bedroom, but decides against it. 

It’s one thing to get accidentally stranded at Stiles’ house, it’s another thing to intentionally decide to get back in Stiles’ space. Besides, climbing back into bed would definitely disturb Stiles, which is not something that Derek is willing to do. 

So instead, Derek goes into the kitchen to make some coffee. It feels invasive, looking through the pantry to find what he needs, but he figures that, if he has coffee ready when Stiles wakes up, it will make it easier to have the discussion about the snow and how Derek is stuck at his house. Okay, so maybe coffee won’t make it easier. But it tastes nice and it might help Stiles wake up enough that they can discuss the snow and deal with the circumstances together, and that’s all that Derek can expect.

While the coffee brews, Derek allows himself a moment to consider what he’d like to happen. He thinks that he would like it if Stiles is happy when he finds out that Derek is still here. Maybe he’ll pull Derek back into the bedroom for a repeat of the night before. Maybe he’ll let Derek mark him up some more. Maybe he’ll be thankful for the snow. 

He doesn’t have much of a chance to think about what will happen if Stiles isn’t happy that Derek is stuck at his house. Before he can imagine much more than being tossed out into the snow, Stiles stumbles out of the bedroom. His hair is all wild tangles from where Derek had his hands in it, and he’s managed to find some clothes, which Derek thinks is a small mercy. He still looks way too good rubbing the sleep from his eyes, but at least he’s in a pair of sweats. 

“Hey,” he says around a yawn, as though finding his one night stand lingering in his kitchen making coffee is a normal occurrence. “I was wondering where you went.” Stiles squints at him, leaning over the breakfast bar to stare at Derek’s legs. “Are you wearing your jeans?” There’s a moment after he says it, one heartbeat, where the world seems to be holding its breath. Then, just like that, Stiles’ expression closes off. It’s a shocking change, given how soft and sleepy he had been only seconds before. 

Derek’s traitorous heart skips a beat, wondering if maybe he’s not the only one wanting more. “I-. Yeah. I didn’t want to walk around without pants on.” He gestures to the cupboard when Stiles narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Where are your mugs?”

Leaning back over the counter and settling in one of the stools waiting there, Stiles points at the cupboard above the microwave. Carefully, Derek opens the cabinet, smiling when he sees a collection of Star Wars mugs. Picking out one for each of them, (he doesn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable taking the Princess Leia mug for himself) he starts getting the coffee ready. “Cream and sugar?”

Stiles hums in agreement, but doesn’t offer any other instruction. Derek doesn’t mind. He can feel Stiles watching him as he bustles around, preparing his mug the way Derek would for his sister. Hopefully that won’t be too sweet for him. In his mug, he just pours in a little milk, smiling when he hears Stiles scoff in disgust. 

“Thank you.” Their fingers brush when Derek hands Stiles his mug, a lingering press of skin against skin before Stiles sits back. When he takes a drink, he keeps his eyes locked on Derek’s, making heat coil in Derek’s stomach. “Mhh, delicious.”

Taking a drink from his own mug, Derek tries to find the words to explain the situation at hand. Even though it’s impossible for him to know something is going on, Stiles stays quiet, watching him with whiskey eyes full of a depth that makes Derek shiver. He’s so perceptive and beautiful, Derek could stare at him all day without getting bored. There’s so much to see, and Derek wants to map him out until he knows Stiles better than he knows himself. 

That’s a heavy thought, considering he was well on his way out the door not half an hour before. One night stands aren’t supposed to feel like this. They never have before. 

“So,” he clears his throat. Gods, this is awkward. “It snowed last night.”

Stiles raises one eyebrow, glancing briefly toward the front door. “It was snowing when we left the bar.” 

Derek rolls his eyes. “Not like this it wasn’t.”

Curiosity wins out, prompting Stiles to get out of his seat and shuffle over to the door. He opens it slowly but the rush of cold air is still overwhelming. It makes Stiles flinch back and cover his bare torso as best as he can against the chill. “Oh shit.” He sounds breathless as he curses, slamming the door and locking it. He shivers to himself for a moment before taking the blanket off of the couch and returning to his seat. His hands wrap around his coffee mug, and he huddles over it as though searching for its warmth. The blanket, a fraying blue monstrosity, slips over his shoulders. 

“Well, that certainly is more snow than there was last night.” Derek nearly snorts into his coffee. Stiles narrows his eyes at him. “Laugh it up, buddy. My nipples are angry pebbles of doom now, so thanks for that, you asshole. I’m glad that you’re enjoying my pain.”

Laughter erupts from Derek. He has to bend over, hands resting on his thighs while he laughs. It feels good, laughing so freely. Stiles smiles at him, as though he enjoys seeing him so loose and loud. 

But the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Finally, when Derek has regained his ability to breath, Stiles asks, “Is that why you’re still here?”

Just like that, the bubble of warmth enveloping the kitchen pops. Derek’s smile falls away, replaced again by nerves. It’s hard to tell what Stiles thinks about that; there is no emotion aside from curiosity in the question. 

He swallows. “Yes.” Stiles nods, as though this is what he had been expecting. He doesn’t say anything, and it’s impossible to decide what he’s thinking. “I was going to walk back to the bar to get my car, but there’s no way I’ll be able to walk through that.”

“So you came back inside and made coffee instead?”

This isn’t going at all like Derek wanted. The words he needs to say feel worlds away, and there’s an ache in his chest that grows as each second passes where they stare at each other in silence. Finally, Derek sighs. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t leave,” Derek mutters, looking at the spot right above Stiles’ shoulder instead of looking him in the eyes. 

Stiles crosses his arms in a defensive way. The blanket slips from his shoulders and falls away. “Are you sorry because you wanted to leave, or are you sorry because you think that’s what I want?”

The question makes Derek huff out a laugh. This right here is the problem. Stiles, somehow, sees past all of Derek’s walls and defenses. He _sees_ him, and that’s terrifying and exhilarating. So, deciding to take a chance, he answers honestly. 

“I was only leaving in the first place because it was what I thought you wanted.”

A slow, curing smile begins pulling Stiles’ lips up. He hums, and gets to his feet, moving into the kitchen to pour himself some more coffee. “Well, in that case,” he trails off, stirring sugar into his mug. When he’s content with how it’s made, Stiles turns around and leans against the counter across from Derek. He’s close enough that, if he wanted too, Derek could reach out and grab him, could press his fingers against the bruise on his collarbone. 

Stiles’ smile is bright. “There are two things that we can do now. We could go back to bed, and treat this like an extension of our night together.” Derek’s heart is beating fast and loud as he waits for Stiles to continue. “Or, you can help me make breakfast, and we can sit and eat, and figure out if maybe this can be more than just a night. Because-. Honestly, I’m not ready to give you up yet, Derek.” He swallows, the first sign that maybe he’s been nervous about this too. “And not because of the sex either. I mean, Gods, it was good. But that’s not-. I want-.” He huffs, frustration and embarrassment making his cheeks heat.

Derek doesn’t even have to consider it. He takes a step toward Stiles, enjoying the way that he shivers when Derek’s hands settle on his waist. Then he smiles, a burst of hope and happiness making him quake. “Do you have eggs?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles POV

“You’re going to have a great night tonight,” Stiles promised Lydia as they got ready to head to the bar. Sprawled out across her bed, Stiles watched with mild interest as she finished applying her makeup, finishing off her whole look with a swipe of red lipstick. “I can’t believe that you’re getting married,” he sighed, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. It seemed so surreal, thinking about how Lydia’s wedding was finally happening. In one week, Stiles would watch her walk down the aisle. In one week, he would lose her.

Not that he was begrudging Parrish at all. Jordan was a great guy, and Stiles wasn’t surprised at all when he got down on one knee and proposed. Lydia had been dating him for three solid years. He had been a contributing factor in her decision to move back to Beacon Hills after graduating college, though he would have followed her wherever she chose. And Stiles is happy for them both, he really is. But Lydia is his best friend. Their friendship was cemented when they ended up at the same university and decided that sharing an apartment was better than staying on campus.

Settling down on the bed beside him, Lydia reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s not going to change a thing, you know that.”

Holding in his groan, Stiles sat up. “I know. It’s just weird. We’ve been planning this day for so long. Now it’s nearly here.”

In a moment of unexpected softness, Lydia leaned her head on his shoulder. “I know. And I know what you’re feeling. But you’re not losing me, you drama queen. Just because Jordan and I are getting married, that doesn’t mean that you’re going to stop being my best friend.”

He took her hand, squeezing it tightly before sighing. “I know. I’m just a selfish asshole sometimes, you know that. I really am happy for you.”

Lydia smiled, pressing closer to him. “I know.” Clearing her throat, she pulled away and got to her feet. “Now, let’s get out of here. We have a bachelorette party to enjoy.”

He followed her to the bar feeling a little lighter, ready to make the night the best he could for her. Most of their party was already there, setting in the back of the bar so that they’d have plenty of room to drink and party without being in anyone’s way. Stiles had thought that Lydia would want something a little fancier for her bachelorette party, but was pleasantly surprised when all she asked for was for everyone to get together and drink away the night. And Stiles was ready to spend the time with his best friend, partying before she got hitched. 

When Derek walked in the bar, Stiles noticed him right away. How could he not? He hadn’t planned on doing anything more than looking though (party because he was there to spend time with Lydia, and partly because Derek was the best looking guy he had seen in way too long), but Lydia saw how interested he was and took matters into her own hands. She invited Derek and his friend to join their party, leading Derek into the booth so that he was pressed right up against Stiles’ side. And even then, Stiles didn’t expect anything to happen. Derek was hot-like-burning and so far out of his league it almost hurt. Stiles knew that he didn’t have a chance. He couldn’t help but imagine that he might though when he felt Derek’s eyes on him as he told story after story to keep the group amused. It was a heady feeling, having all of Derek’s attention, one that swept Stiles up. He hadn’t meant to reach out and grab Derek’s thigh, but when Derek didn’t pull away, Stiles couldn’t say that he regretted it. 

Especially because that was when he noticed the heat in Derek’s gaze, when he first thought that there might be something there after all. Lydia pulled him to the side when they started the process of ordering everyone an Uber, while Derek got his friend Erica into a car of her own. “You can think me later,” she had said, eyes bright and full of drunken amusement.

As Derek rejoined them, allowing Stiles to twine their hands together, Stiles made a silent note to do just that. Derek made him feel drunk even though neither of them had had enough to drink for that to be true. There was something so thrilling about how their fingers linked together and how Derek followed Stiles into the back of the car without hesitating. All the way back to his house, Derek kept his head tipped back against the car seat and looked over at Stiles with dark eyes. It made Stiles wish, more than anything, that their driver could pick up their speed just a little bit, because every second with Derek’s eyes on him made anticipation thrum through his veins, intoxicating, and oh so tempting. The driver was lucky Stiles waited until they were out of the car to pounce on Derek.

And oh, feeling the way that Derek’s hands pulled him close while they kissed, the thrill that went through him when Derek picked him up and so effortlessly carried him to the front door while their kiss turned dirty-. Well, that was game over. If Stiles wasn’t already gone before, that cemented it.

“I can’t get my fucking shoes off,” Derek growled on the way to the bedroom, pulling away from their kiss to glare down at his boots. Without hesitating, Stiles dropped down to his knees, undoing the laces before grinning up at Derek. His smile was wicked, and full of promises of everything to come. It made Derek’s breath stutter in his chest, a muttered, “Fuck,” escaping his lips before he hauled Stiles back to his feet and demanded, “Bedroom” in a growl that set Stiles on fire. 

The sex was-. Stiles hasn’t felt so full in way too long, that’s for sure. But, perhaps more importantly, he had _fun_. Even in the midst of the fire, Derek made him laugh. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. They took care of each other, both of them thinking about their companion even while they chased their own release. And it was so good. Derek knotted their hands together and stared deeply into his eyes as he shuddered from pleasure, and Stiles felt undone. When they were finished, instead of getting up and getting dressed right away, Derek pulled Stiles close to his chest and fell asleep. And Stiles had been so happy that he wasn’t heading out. Whatever had happened between them, it was clear to Stiles that it was more than just some one night stand. He wanted to know more about Derek, wanted to figure out the best way to cuddle against him. He wanted to make him breakfast and argue about pancakes vs. waffles and whatever else they could think of. He wanted so much.

That’s why it’s so depressing when Stiles wakes up alone in bed. It takes him a few seconds to remember everything from the night before, but when he does a wave of disappointment washes over him. Rolling onto his back, Stiles stares at the ceiling and vows never to bring someone home again, lest they turn out to be amazing people who slip away in the middle of the night. 

Then he smells the coffee. Curiosity and hope get him out of bed, scrounging through his laundry to find a pair of sweats to throw on before venturing into the living room. 

And there Derek is, standing in his kitchen, staring at the coffee machine. When he turns to look at him, Stiles is pleased to note that he didn’t just dream up his beauty. He’s beautiful, especially sleep smudged and ruffled. Stiles wants to wrap him in blankets and pull him back to bed. He's getting ready to do just that when he notices that Derek is fully dressed. The disappointment comes back ten fold, and Stiles does his best to close off his reaction, not giving anything away. 

“Are you wearing jeans?” The answer is obvious, but Derek takes a moment to look down at his legs anyway. 

“I-. Yeah.” He swallows, looking back up at Stiles. “I didn’t want to walk around without pants on.” As if Stiles would care. Besides, there’s something shifty in his eyes that makes that explanation feel like a lie. Stiles narrows his eyes, ready to ask more questions, but Derek cuts him off. “Where are your mugs?”

Deciding to let it go, Stiles heaves himself up into one of his stools arranged around his breakfast nook (something Lydia demanded when he moved in), and points to the cupboard above the microwave. He watches as Derek turns and opens the cupboard, taking note of the smile that flits over his lips when he sees the Star Wars mugs waiting there. They were a gift from Scott for Christmas one year, and he loves them so much. Seeing Derek’s apparent approval makes him feel warm. 

“Cream and sugar?” At the question, Stiles draws his attention away from where Derek has his hand wrapped around the Princess Leia mug protectively. He hums in agreement, drowsiness making him lean across the counter while Derek bustles around. As he waits for his coffee, Stiles decides that he likes the way that Derek looks in his kitchen. Even as he shuffles around looking for things, Stiles can’t help thinking that he looks like he belongs there. 

Which is upsetting, considering that he’s pretty sure Derek was going to leave without saying goodbye.

Silently, Derek passes him his mug of coffee. Stiles can’t help but run his fingers over the back of Derek’s hand slightly before he sits back, enjoying the way Derek's eyes glaze over. At least, he thinks, he can affect Derek this way. That's a huge confidence booster. Taking a drink, Stiles is pleased that it’s just as sweet as when he makes it for himself (his Dad always gives him shit about having more sugar in it than coffee). He licks at his lips, smiling devilishly. “Mhh, delicious.”

Stiles hides his smile in his mug when his words make Derek shudder. He doesn’t let Stiles’ coy tone distract him from whatever’s on his mind though, because his easy smile falls away. He looks nervous and uncomfortable, which is a combination Stiles hates. Derek, he decides, should never look so unsure. Confidence suits him quite well. 

Gods, how he wants to lean across the table and kiss the look right off of his face. 

“So,” Derek says, clearing his throat. “It snowed last night.”

That isn’t where Stiles thought the conversation was going. He raises one eyebrow. “It was snowing when we left the bar.” Is this what small talk with your one-night-stand-that-you-don’t-want-to-be-a-one-night-stand is like? Because it’s nothing short of mildly excruciating. Who actually talks about the weather to pass the time, aside from coworkers you barely know by their first names?

Some of the character returns to Derek as he rolls his eyes. “Not like this it wasn’t.”

It’s unclear whether or not Derek expects Stiles to go and investigate the weather for himself, but Stiles drags himself out of his chair anyway. Knowing that he’s not wearing a shirt and it’s probably freezing outside, Stiles does his best to hide behind the door as he opens it only enough to peek out. “Oh shit.”

The first thing that he notices is the cold air that blasts through the door, giving him immediate goosebumps and making him flinch backwards. The second thing he sees are piles and piles of snow, well over a foot in depth. It’s no wonder that Derek is still here, standing awkwardly in his kitchen. He can’t leave, even if he wanted to. His one night stand has been snowed in at his house. How fucking awkward is that. 

Closing the door, Stiles shivers for a moment before spotting the throw blanket that Kira left on the couch the last time she was over. It’s soft and warm, and Stiles wraps it around his body like cape as he returns to his seat. Wrapping his hands back around his mug, Stiles sighs in relief when the warmth seeps into his hands. 

“Well, that certainly is more snow than there was last night.” Derek, who had just finished taking a drink, nearly snorts into his coffee. Stiles scowls at him. “Laugh it up, buddy. My nipples are angry pebbles of doom now, so that’s for that, you asshole. I’m glad that you’re enjoying my pain.”

The laughter that erupts from Derek takes Stiles by surprise. He’s used to people looking at him like he’s nuts when his brain to mouth filter gives up. Derek seems thrilled by it. He laughs with his whole body, bending over to rest his hands on his thighs so that he can breath. It’s a breathtaking sight, and Stiles finds himself smiling along. 

There’s one thing that’s still bothering him though. He waits until Derek has calmed down to ask, “Is that why you’re still here?”

The light energy in the kitchen dissipates immediately as Derek’s smile disappears. Stiles hates himself a little bit for killing the mood, but he has to know. He can’t keep wondering if Derek was actually trying to leave or if he really wanted to stay. It’s driving him crazy. 

“Yes.” 

Stiles nods. He had been expecting as much. Good things like Derek don’t happen to people like him. Too much bad karma, or some shit like that he’s sure. But, Gods, hearing Derek explain that he was going to walk back to the bar to escape Stiles is more than a little heartbreaking. Not that he’s willing to let Derek see how effected he is. Instead he asks, “So you came back inside and made coffee instead?”

His voice is devoid of all emotion. It’s a trick that he picked up years ago from Lydia, and he doesn’t feel the least bit bad about using it. All he wants is to go back to bed and start this shitty day over again, and he can’t because Derek literally cannot leave his apartment. What the hell is his life?

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t leave,” Derek says finally. He’s not looking at Stiles. Instead, he’s staring at the wall above his shoulder with a dejected expression. That gives Stiles pause. His dad always tells him that he needs to give people the benefit of the doubt sometimes, and actually ask what’s going on instead of making assumptions. 

So, even though he’s pretty sure that he already knows the answer, he asks, “Are you sorry because you wanted to leave, or are you sorry because you think that’s what I want?”

Derek looks a little dumbfounded by the question, which is something that Stiles is used too. He’s brash. He learned that years ago. 

Shaking his head and clearing his thoughts, Derek huffs out something that sounds like a laugh. “I was only leaving in the first place because it was what I thought you wanted.”

Gods, they’re both dumb. They’re both fucking idiots. Derek was going to leave because he thought that Stiles wanted him too, and Stiles was already writing himself out of Derek’s life because it was what he expected Derek wanted. 

A smile pulls his lips back. Getting to his feet, unable to sit still, Stiles makes his way around the breakfast bar to pour himself more coffee. Derek wanted to stay. Derek wanted to stay with him. 

It seems too good to be true. Turning back around, Stiles watches Derek watch him. He’s so beautiful. Stiles wants to keep him so bad. “There are two things that we can do now,” he decides, trying to get his grin under control. It’s not working, and he probably looks a little manic, but he doesn’t care. Derek seems to like him anyway. “We could go back to bed, and treat this like an extension of our night together.” It’s a tempting idea, even though it’s not exactly what Stiles wants. No, he hopes that Derek will pick the second option. “Or, you can help me make breakfast, and we can sit and eat, and figure out if maybe this can be more than just a night.” Deciding to be honest for once, Stiles adds, “Because-. Honestly, I’m not ready to give you up yet, Derek.” He swallows, a tell that he’s nervous. “And not because of the sex either. I mean, Gods, it was good. But that’s not-. I want-.” He huffs. Why is being vulnerable and honest so hard? Frustration and embarrassment make his cheeks heat, so he clamps his mouth shut and lets Derek decide. He’s said enough. 

Immediately, Derek steps into his space, settling his hands on Stiles waist, grinning when he feels Stiles shiver. Stiles is holding his breath, hope making his chest feel tight. Derek’s hands flex against his skin. “Do you have eggs?”

It takes a second for Stiles to understand what the response means, but when he figures it out he laughs, happiness bubbling up inside of him impossible to contain. He gets to keep him. Derek wants him too. Reaching up, Stiles threads his fingers into Derek’s hair and pulls him down into a kiss. Maybe breakfast can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I found the prompt for this while furiously scrolling through Tumblr after my second attempt at this event hit a dead end. The prompt was 'we just had a one night stand but a massive storm hit in and now we’re snowed in, hello awkward', and I found it on a winter prompt list put together by @veronicabunchwrites on tumble. I really liked snowed in fics, and it seemed like a fun idea to play with.


End file.
